


Justice For All

by airspaniel



Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-11
Updated: 2008-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airspaniel/pseuds/airspaniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If he has to look at that infuriating little smirk on Zero's face for another second, he's not going to be responsible for his actions."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Justice For All

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here.](http://yumemiru-kikai.livejournal.com/17513.html)

Wyatt Cain is a patient man. He has, in his lifetime, endured things that would break lesser men; would drive them to their knees, trembling and sobbing and raging against their own weakness.

And then there was the suit.

But he has his limits, and if he has to look at that infuriating little smirk on Zero's face for another second, he's not going to be responsible for his actions.

Zero, damn him, notices this, and his mouth twists into a grin. "I knew you wouldn't," he almost laughs, eyes alight with something darker and more dangerous than mere amusement. "I knew you didn't have the stones to kill me."

Cain snaps, fist flying on its own to wipe the smile off Zero's face the way he's always wanted to. The bones of his forearm vibrate with the impact, his knuckles already stinging where they meet sharp white teeth. Zero reels but doesn't fall, one lock of blond hair falling over his forehead to cast half his face in faint shadow.

And damn him, _damn him_ , his blood covered lips twist up at the corners.

"Bet that felt good, didn't it?" he snarls and runs his tongue over his bottom lip, pink and bright red; probing the deep split on the left side that's already starting to swell.

For a moment, Cain stares, fascinated by the dark red drop welling at the wound as Zero’s lips move.

“Been waiting for that for a while, haven’t you, Cain?”

Cain tilts his head; a dare. “You want another one?”

Zero laughs, and there’s something deeply wrong with how genuine it is. “Why stop now? Surely, that’s not all you’ve got.”

He knows he’s being baited but he can’t resist, fisting his hands in Zero’s torn and dirty shirt and shoving him hard into the rough bark of a tree; and the bastard is _still_ laughing, albeit choked and breathlessly.

“It’s no fun if you’re enjoying yourself, Zero,” he growls, “Kind of defeats the purpose, actually.”

“Come on,” Zero taunts, “like you haven’t been dying to get your hands on me.” He’s pressed against the tree, inches from Cain’s face, and he still finds a way to lean closer; to breathe those words against Cain’s skin in a whisper like silk that leaves involuntary goosebumps in its wake.

Cain slams Zero against the tree again and doesn’t hide his satisfaction when the man’s head hits the trunk with a dull thud. “Careful what you wish for.”

His answer is a soft groan and a heavy exhalation against his neck as Zero lets his head loll forward. The chest under his hands convulses once, twice, and he tightens his grip on the fabric in his fists.

Zero just laughs. “All this time, tin man, and this is the best you can do?”

Cain’s eyes flash blue fire, and Zero turns his head, spitting crimson into the dirt. His lips, stained red with his own blood, are wearing that damnable smirk again.

And Cain is not responsible for his actions. He surges forward, forcing Zero’s head hard against the bark as he angrily crushes their lips together.

Zero doesn’t seem surprised, doesn’t do anything but arch up, open up when Cain’s tongue slides over his bottom lip. The kiss tastes like blood and steel, and neither of them pulls away.

All the words Cain has wanted to say for so long; every hateful thought of revenge, every moment of pain and loss, and every furtive longing for something he couldn’t even name… he pushes them all into Zero’s mouth with his teeth and his tongue, wanting to force him into submission; wanting, for one damned _second_ , to have some control.

But Zero gives as good as he gets, long-fingered hands clutching at Cain’s shoulderblades, his waist, pulling at his hair; pulling him tighter and closer and…

Cain’s hat has fallen off. A stupid thing to notice here and now, but it’s jarring enough to let him tear his mouth away, to get a crucial inch of space between their bodies. He can’t catch his breath for some reason, so his words die on his lips. “I… this… what is this?” he gasps.

Zero drags his tongue up the pulse in Cain’s neck, closes his teeth on the sensitive skin just under his ear. “You know what this is.” He brushes the shell of Cain’s ear, and Cain shivers despite himself, earning a deep chuckle he feels more than hears.

He tries to twist his hands up between them; to break free, “Don’t. I don’t…”

“Don’t like it? Don’t want it?” Zero leers, pressing a hand against the front of Cain’s trousers, curling his fingers around the bulge in the fabric, damn him, _damn him_ …

“’Cause I don’t believe you.”

Those long fingers stroke him slowly, up and down and up and it’s been so _long_ , so long since anyone’s touched him like this. Cain clenches his eyes shut, fighting so desperately for control, but Zero just won’t stop; twists his hand to open Cain’s pants and the first sharp bite of skin on skin hits him like an electric shock.

“Yeah, you don’t like this at all.”

Cain’s hips buck forward even as he growls defiantly. “Shut up.”

Zero smiles again. “Make me, Cain.”

So their mouths meet again, less anger and more hunger, now that it is what it is. Cain braces himself against the tree, hands splayed on either side of Zero’s head; palms scraping against the rough bark as he thrusts into that demanding fist. Zero scrambles to get his own pants open, brushing his knuckles haphazardly against the slick head of Cain’s erection, making him shiver and arch forward.

Their hips grind together, and the slide of hot flesh against hot flesh is so good, so _necessary_ … Cain hisses in a breath, teeth locked on Zero’s injured lip, and Zero moans long and low, wrapping his hand around both of them and pumping hard and fast.

Cain bites down on the curve of Zero’s shoulder when he comes, tasting the salt sting of sweat, the faint metallic tang of blood; and when Zero cries out a moment later, caught in the grip of his own release, head falling forward against Cain’s neck, it feels something like honesty.

They lean against one another for a long moment, just breathing.

Zero breaks first; he always breaks first, wiping his hand lazily on the front of his shirt as he leans back against the tree. “So what now?” he purrs, “Think you can kill me now?”

Cain has composed himself enough to shake his head. “I was never going to kill you,” he replies, placing his hands on Zero’s shoulders and steering him into the clearing. He feels the tension in the man’s body when he sees the suit; feels the fine tremor that shakes his thin frame.

“No…” Zero whispers, “Cain, _no_ … just kill me!” But Cain’s hands are moving him steadily forward now, and won’t let him dig his heels in hard enough to stop.

“Kill me, Cain! She’s dead because of me.”

Cain does pause at that, hands tightening on Zero’s arms. Part of him does want to lash out again, to make Zero bleed again, to make him _hurt_ for it; but he simply walks the man backwards, pressing him almost gently into the dark metal confines.

The clang of the shutting door echoes briefly in the woods, and he smiles at the sound, the taste of blood still clinging to his lips.

“Goodbye, Zero,” he says, and walks away.


End file.
